


A Good Dog

by Ineffabilitea



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: blanketforts, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-11
Updated: 2006-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ineffabilitea/pseuds/Ineffabilitea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Padfoot is a good dog.  Set during Harry's third year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **blanketforts** 2006 [eleventh](http://www.livejournal.com/community/blanketforts/67938.html#cutid1) prompt.

A thin black dog lies shivering at the opening of the alley. He is exhausted and hungry and wants more than anything to go to sleep, but he can't. _His_ smell is very strong, and that means the dog must remain alert. _He_ can't see me, the man inside the dog knows, if his scent gets stronger I must run and hide. So he is alert for that reason, but also because the dog knows the scent as one of _home_ and _food_ and most of all _love_, and it takes all of the man's concentration to keep from tracking the scent down to its source.

Why is _he_ here, the dog wonders. It will only make his task harder to have someone he must avoid, even as Padfoot. Perhaps that is why he is here, perhaps he has told Dumbledore everything and they are looking for him in this form, too? The dog whines fearfully and begins to back down the alley, still in a crouch. _He_ has no reason to keep your secrets any longer, the man thinks; but he lets the dog's instincts leave him the barest sliver of hope that one reason, the very best reason, still remains, in tatters, perhaps, but there all the same.

Suddenly, all the light in the alley disappears, is blocked out, and the dog goes perfectly still. Dementors, the man thinks for an instant, but he does not feel their unearthly chill, and moments later the sound of a booming voice proves that it is not them at all.

"What's this here? Haven't seen yeh before." The man and the dog both instinctively trust this voice, and so he takes a few steps forward, and soon finds himself being rubbed behind the ears.

"What're yeh doin' in the village? Don' look like yeh belong ter nobody. Yer as thin and scruffy as Professor Lupin."

The dog quivers at _his_ name. Professor Lupin, he's a teacher, that's why he's here, the man thinks, and warmth shoots through him to know that he has a job, is teaching at Hogwarts, even, as he always wanted.

"I'd bring yeh up ter the castle with me, but Fang's a possessive sort o' dog, so... But I can't just leave yeh here ter starve. I'll just swing by Rosmerta's for a bit o' food for yeh, yeh great mangy cur, how's that? Meantime, stay here, alrigh'?" Padfoot doesn't move, wags his tail in agreement, and when the man sees this, he gives him another good pat or two on the head.

"Yer a good dog, yeh are." One final rub and the man is gone. Padfoot trusts he will return with the promised food; the man smells like trust, trust and woodsmoke and baking. The man inside the dog knows that this means more than just his first decent meal in a week; if Hagrid is not on the lookout for a big black dog, Dumbledore doesn't know about Padfoot. His secret is safe, _he_ has kept it, for whatever reason, and that realisation, coupled with Hagrid's kind words and the promise of food not stolen from a skip, fills him with a warmth he knows will last all through the winter.

I'm a good dog, he thinks as he settles down again at the mouth of the alley, tail curled over nose, to await his dinner.


End file.
